


Turn Left

by the_crownless_queen



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (which they all are), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, No Incest, Pre-Canon, even the dumb ones, in this house we love all of our children, in which I cannibalize the plot of the show to have it happen three years before canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_crownless_queen/pseuds/the_crownless_queen
Summary: When Vanya wakes up the next morning, Klaus is gone.And so are her pills.-- In which Klaus crashes at Vanya's, steals her pills, and somehow saves the world. Oops?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So when I was watching the show I thought like "you know what would have been fun - if Klaus just, took Vanya's pills and she found out she had powers because of that"
> 
> And then I actually started plotting, and this happened :p

"I'm hungry," Klaus whines, staring at a street-side vendor longingly. The hot dogs look warm and greasy and _he_ _wants them._

His brother Ben just arches a pointed eyebrow and smirks. "Maybe if you hadn't smoked the last of your money, you wouldn't be."

Klaus pouts back at him. "Killjoy." That money had been well-spent, in his opinion, but perhaps Klaus could have been a little more careful about saving up for food too.

Klaus only realizes he’d spoken out loud when Ben snorts, and Klaus sticks out his tongue at him.

_Ah!_ That’ll teach him.

Slowly, Klaus starts walking again, angling himself toward the crowded streets. He can feel himself starting to come down from the high — as evidenced by the reappearance of his very own unimpressed Jiminy Cricket — and it isn't fun.

Also, he's hungry.

It's late, he notices suddenly. Late enough that the sky is starting to darken, the streets now busy with either people hurrying home for the night or people leaving their homes for a nice evening out.

It's nice, though, how busy the street is. Klaus could do without the jostling, of course, but at least that's real. Everyone around him — Ben unincluded _(sorry, Ben,_ he thinks to himself, and giggles) — is alive, and they don't actually reach for him. overall, they even try to avoid him.

It feels nice.

Klaus tunes back into the world to hear Ben’s drawl, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You know, if you're that hungry you could always, I don’t know, _ask for help."_

Klaus is about to tell Ben exactly what he thinks of that suggestion — mainly that it's stupid — when something hard collides with the back of his knees and sends him down.

_"Ouch."_ For some reason, the sight of his scraped up knees — even though he's just ripped yet another pair of his favorite jeans — seems hilarious to him, and Klaus laughs.

A couple of passersby try to ask him how he is, but Klaus waves them away. They don’t linger long, anyway.

Ben looks down at him sadly, and Klaus waves his 'hello' hand at him instead, using the other to leverage himself up. "Why the long face, bro?"

Ben rolls his eyes. “You know why."

Klaus’s knees start to ooze blood again when he gets up, and he winces, pulling at the frayed edges of his jeans sadly. "Did you see who that was?" he asks Ben, craning his neck to see into the crowd.

People give him a wide berth as he moves out of the way, and Ben shakes his head again. "Some kid, I think. Probably in a hurry to get back to his family."

Klaus huffs. Well, never let it be said that his brother was _subtle._

But well, if he's being this obvious about it now, he'll nag and nag and nag until Klaus does relent (he ended up crashing on Diego's couch more than once because of Ben's worrying), and Klaus is too tired right now to fight it.

"Ugh, _fine."_ He huffs again. "You win. But just this once.”

Ben grins. “Just this once,” he promises, and Klaus groans, because there is no way that wasn’t a lie.

"You're a pain in my ass, I hope you know that," he mutters, throwing Ben an ugly look.

And because the universe hates him, Klaus then has to apologize to a very offended little old lady who doesn't believe him when he says he hadn't been talking to her, and if she would please stop hitting him for a moment, he’d explain everything.

All this, of course, while Ben cackles in the background.

"You're the worst," Klaus tells him when he finally manages to escape. He pouts, rubbing his arm. "I think I'll get bruises."

“You’ll live,” Ben retorts dryly.

Klaus blinks, just for a second, before dissolving into loud cackling.

Ben waits a beat, then two, before asking, “Are you done?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Klaus replies, leaning on the wall as he tries to catch his breath. “I swear, I’m done.”

He takes a deep breath to shake himself and looks back at his brother.

“So, where are we going then?” Ben asks.

“Ah… Good question.” Klaus trails off.

He pushes himself off the wall, and starts counting them off his fingers.

“Well, Allison’s out,” he tells Ben, who nods back absently. “Since she’s, you know, on the other side of the country.” Klaus pouts. “It’s a shame, really,” Klaus adds, picking at the frayed hem of his shirt. “She always has the best clothes and I could use a wardrobe overhaul.”

Ben snorts. “You can say that again.”

Klaus scowls at him before ticking down another finger.

“Isn’t Luther on the moon still?”

“I think so.”

“Huh, wonder how _that_ happened. Anyway, he’s out too.”

Not that Klaus would ever go to Luther, because going to Luther inevitably means having to deal with _Dad,_ and well, the less said about that the better, but still.

That leaves...

Klaus pauses at the third finger, his eyes falling on a brightly light storefront. It was for a music store, and Klaus finds himself staring idly at the instruments on display. He lets his hand fall back down.

"Diego is trying to get back with his lady cop friend, isn't he?" he asks the air.

Ben's silence is answer enough, and Klaus hums. “Think we should tell him it’s doomed?”

“It might work out,” Ben replies, but he sounds about as hopeful as Klaus himself is — which is to say, not much.

Of course, neither of them had ever even met the lucky lady, but Diego’s mentioned her many, many times — especially considering how little they actually talk.

Klaus’s eyes fall on a violin, and he steps back. He bumps into several grumpy people that he smiles semi-apologetically at, head craned up.

"Do you see a street sign?" he asks loudly, but even as he says it, Klaus sees it. "Hey, doesn't Vanya live nearby?"

When Klaus turns to him, Ben is frowning, and his arms are crossed. He looks like he’s sulking. Klaus sends him a pleading look and Ben sighs, looking up toward the sign. "She does," he confirms.

"Aw, come on, you can't still be mad about the book," Klaus whines. “It was fun — and ballsy.”

He starts walking in the direction of where he remembers Vanya’s apartment being, Ben close on his heels.

"I'm not mad."

“Mmh-mmh,” Klaus hums, throwing his brother a dubious look.

“I’m not,” Ben denies. "I just... I don’t know. Do you think it helped her?"

Klaus shrugs. "Well, we can always ask her."

"Because that'll go well." Ben snorts, and Klaus grins back.

"Hey, this was _your_ idea.”

“Sure it was,” Ben drawls. _“You’re_ the one who’d rather see her than Diego.”

“Diego’s busy,” Klaus retorts with a huffed laugh. “He doesn’t need me around.

“Us,” Ben corrects, and he doesn’t say anything when Klaus shoots him a grateful look.

“Yeah, us.” Klaus shrugs. He smiles. “Besides, it’s been a while since we last saw Vanya.”

 

* * *

 

Vanya’s about to turn in for the night when knocking on her front door startles her. Her pills almost go down the wrong way and she coughs, sputtering, for several long seconds before managing to catch her breath.

The knocking persists.

She considers not answering — it’s not exactly the middle of the night, true, but it’s still late enough that even Mrs. Kowalski should have gone to bed already, cat or no cat.

The knocking sounds urgent, though, and she can’t exactly ignore that. What if it’s something important?

_There are probably many horror stories starting just like this,_ Vanya thinks ruefully as she opens the door.

“Klaus?” Surprise colors her voice as she takes a step back. Of all the people she had thought she might find on the other side of that door, her brother hadn’t been one of them.

She pulls the door open wider, silently watching as her brother shuffles in.

“Hey, Vanya,” he says, waving, but his greetings is lackluster. He collapses head first onto her sofa before Vanya can even reply, and if not for his groaning as he digs out a pillow from under his stomach, Vanya might have thought he’d fainted.

“Klaus?” she repeats, hands coming to hover uselessly over his shoulders. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything? I have...” She mentally goes over the content of her fridge and winces. “Water,” she finishes lamely.

Klaus sits up with a groan, waving his right hand dismissively. He’s still wearing his coat, but it can’t be too warm, because he’s shaking. “I’m fine. And water would be lovely.”

His head jerks to the side and he glares into the open space before looking back at her with a forced smile. “Thank you,” he adds, and then he grumbles something she doesn’t hear.

“Are you…” _seeing anyone?_ She means to ask, but the question dies on her lips. Klaus’s power has always been something of a sore subject — a taboo almost, for all that he liked to joke about it. Klaus rarely wants to talk about it, or the things (people) he sees, and frankly, Vanya rarely wants to know either.

It might make her a terrible sister, but she’s not sure she could handle the answer.

After all, if he was seeing a ghost right now, in her apartment… there only were so many people that could be.

And if he wasn’t… if this was the drugs, or some other kind of madness, or, or coping mechanism… Vanya doesn’t think she has the right to judge.

Klaus would tell her if he wanted to. When he’d want to.

“Am I what?” Klaus asks.

Vanya shakes her head, refocusing on him. “Are you okay?”

“You already asked that,” Klaus replies, his sardonic smile telling her he doesn’t believe her lie. “I’m fine.” He drags out the ‘f’ and breaks down into giggles.

She hands him the glass and sets a pitcher on the table.

Klaus doesn’t look fine. In fact, he looks terrible. It hurts, to see her brother like this, wrenches something in her chest. Klaus’s pupils are too dilated, his grin is too wide and his fingers won’t stop twitching — and despite all that, Vanya is shamefully glad to see him.

She had worried that, after the book, she’d never hear from any of her siblings again.

She’s glad she was wrong.

Klaus downs the glass quickly and pours himself another, and Vanya smoothes the lines of her pants nervously as she sits down on the loveseat.

“You’re not… angry about the book?”

Klaus shrugs, still grinning as he sprawls back on the sofa. “Nah,” he says, waving the hand holding the glass in the air, “I’m pissed.”

He pauses, just long enough for Vanya to almost apologize, before adding with a breathy laugh, “Pissed that I didn’t think of it first.” He gives a dramatic sigh and shakes his head like he’s in mourning.

Despite herself, Vanya finds her lips quirking up.

Klaus’s eyes flick to the left, and he frowns, crossing his legs. "I can read, you know."

“Of course, you can,” Vanya replies, suddenly confused.

But Klaus isn’t looking at her. "Now that's just hurtful," he mutters with a pout.

"What is?" Vanya frowns.

Finally, Klaus turns back to her. He blinks, almost like he’s just noticed her, and his grin grows wide again. "Oh, nothing.”

He finishes his glass and sets it down on the table before reclining on the sofa. "I’m just saying I could have written a book if I'd thought of it — but good on you for getting there first, little sis'. Using the family drama as a way to get money, wish I'd thought of that one."

His bitter voice tells Vanya he probably isn't as okay with her book as he claims to be, and Vanya swallows thickly, awkwardly staring at the table as Klaus hisses at the empty air.

"Do you want more water?" she blurts out, noticing that the pitcher is almost empty.

Klaus blinks to attention. "Oh no, thanks, I'm good.” He blinks again, and sits up. His head tilts to the side and he nods absently. “Wouldn’t say no to some food though,” he adds, showing her wide, pleading eyes.

Vanya nods quickly. "Right. Right. Erm, is toast okay?"

She almost winces when Klaus starts to pout, but after a sharp look to his left, he says, "Sounds great."

His voice says that it sounds all but that, but Vanya appreciates the effort.

"I don't have anything else," she can’t help but justify, and Klaus waves her off.

“It’s fine, really. I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

Her fridge and cupboards revel to be as barren as Vanya’s initial mental inventory had led her to think, but some scrounging up unearths a banana that still looks edible as well as the aforementioned bread.

She sets both in front of her brother, and she watches with a kind of horrified fascination as he falls on them like he hasn't eaten in days

Looking at him, Vanya feels her heart pang. She can actually believe that.

Vanya clears the kitchen quickly. With Klaus eating, the silence seems more awkward than ever.

Her eyes fall on her clock, and Vanya grabs the excuse to get out of there.

"I should... sleep.,” she blurts out. “I have an early rehearsal tomorrow."

"Ooh, you're still playing the violin, right, right. How's that going?"

He sounds genuinely curious, and Vanya can’t help but smile as some of the tension eases out of the air. She smiles.

"Erm, fine? I guess? I'm still third violin, but I'm getting better." At least she hopes so. "And I’m giving lessons now."

“Great! That's great!" Klaus claps once before giving her thumbs up.

“Thanks,” Vanya replies, blushing. She wishes her hair wasn’t tied up so she could hide behind it.

She clears her throat and looks away instead, busying herself with looking for a blanket.

"Stay tomorrow, okay?" she asks. She doesn't have much hope that he will — this isn't exactly the first time they've done this, though it _has_ been a while. “We can go groceries shopping when I come back, get lunch together,” she adds, hoping to sweeten the pot.

Klaus’s eyes sparkle. "Ooh, tempting." He rubs his hands together and makes grabby hands for the fluffy blanket Vanya’s unearthed.

Vanya smiles back as she hands him the blanket. Klaus snuggles into it almost instantly, burying himself deeper into her sofa. He waves his goodbye hand at her and she snorts, shaking head fondly, as he dives down under it.

Her hand hovers above the light switch, wondering if she should shut it. She vaguely remembers her brother hating the dark when they were kids though, and in the end, she leaves it on.

“Goodnight,” she says, smiling at the cheerful, if muffled, goodnight she gets back in answer.

A few moments later, just before she closes her bedroom door, she hears muttered "Fine, fine," and then a louder "Thanks."

She doesn’t say anything, but she walks into her bedroom with a smile.

 

* * *

 

Klaus wakes up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe. Dimly he hears Ben’s voice trying to tell him not to panic, but it doesn’t help.

He can still feel hands around his neck, and he wrenches himself free from the blanket with a breathless scream. He scrambles up to sit, and for a few moments, he just heaves, pressing his hands against his eyes until he sees spots.

When Klaus withdraws them, he notices they are shaking. “Shit.” He’s cold too, shivering already despite the blanket he’s thrown back around his shoulders.

Klaus’s familiar enough with the symptoms to recognize withdrawal when he’s feeling it, and he curses again.

Checking his pockets has him coming up empty, and Klaus laughs. It catches in his chest, a little wet, and Klaus sniffs.

When he looks up, Ben’s there again, staring at him with sympathy in his eyes. “You don’t have anything on you, remember?” he says.

Swallowing thickly, Klaus ignores him. Ben’s wrong, he has to be.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters to himself, looking through his own pockets again, and then the sofa. He comes up with empty bags on himself — disappointing but not surprising — and two dollars and some cents in the sofa.

He pockets them with a shrug, ignoring Ben’s judgemental look. “What? It’s not like she even knew they were there.”

He checks his pockets a third time, then crawls under the sofa. He finds a lot of dust — enough to make him sneeze — but no drugs.

_“Shit,”_ he repeats again.

“I told you so,” Ben replies.

“Why, thank you, Ben, how very insightful of you. I don’t suppose you have any other tidbit of brilliance tucked away?” Klaus bites back. He regrets it almost instantly, and sighs.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand through his hair as he starts pacing.

Ben doesn’t answer.

“You don’t think Vanya has some drugs, do you? Hell, I’ll take alcohol at this point.” He doesn’t need Ben to answer that one to know it’s unlikely, but he checks anyway.

The fridge is even emptier than Vanya had made it sound, and Klaus pouts at it. “God, this is depressing.”

He closes the fridge and goes through Vanya’s cupboards again, tuning Ben’s protests out.

He’s on the fifth — and last — one when he strikes… Well, not gold, but something.

“Ah- _ah,”_ he exclaims triumphantly, snatching up a small bottle off the shelf. Inside, pills rattle, and Klaus lets out a pleased sigh.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, it's not like she can't get more," Klaus says, shrugging.

Despite this, he still hesitates. Ben stares harder, and Klaus whines. "Come on, you know I need it."

“And you know I can’t stop you,” Ben retorts. “So why bother telling me?”

Klaus doesn’t have an answer to that — at least, not one he wants to consider. Instead, he pops open the bottle, and snags two of the pills.

“Do you even know what’s in there?” Ben asks, exasperated.

“Some kind of anxiety medication?” Klaus shrugs and swallows the pills dry. Even though it’s far too soon for them to start acting, he could swear he already feels it. “I don’t really care, to be honest.”

Ben pulls a disgusted face as he shakes his head, and he glares as Klaus pockets the bottle.

Klaus just shrugs back, as innocently as he can. “What?”

“What happened to staying until morning?”

Klaus looks out the window. The sun isn’t quite up yet, but it’s definitely getting there. Yellows are whites are starting to bleed out into the dark blue of the night, and Klaus stares back at his brother.

“Close enough for me,” he replies, and slips out the door.

 

* * *

 

When Vanya wakes up the next morning, Klaus is gone.

And so are her pills.

 

* * *

  
  


**_elsewhere_ **

_(elsewhen)_

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Oh, Steve down on the second floor got caught sleeping with Stella, and —” Dot looks up to see one of the couriers standing by her desk, an envelope in hand. “One moment,” she apologizes to Jeff, who works two tables over and with whom she’d been talking. He waves her off with an understanding grin.

The apocalypse waits for no one, after all, and besides that, they all know the work comes first.

She accepts the envelope with a light smile. “Thank you.”

Dot doesn’t hear the courier's answer, nor notices his departure as she opens the envelope and tugs out the sheets inside.

She has to bite back a groan.

“More graphs?”

“More graphs,” Dot confirms, and is rewarded with a groan of sympathy from Jeff. She lifts up her head to look at him, and grimaces apologetically. “I’m sorry, I have to take care of this — but I’ll finish the story over lunch, I swear.”

Jeff laughs. “Sure, sure. Anytime.”

But Dot’s already back to her work, sifting through the pages.

She pauses on the third, blinking, and then pulls it closer.

“That can’t be right,” she mutters.

Only it is, and the other pages only confirm it.

Dot can feel herself go pale as she keeps on reading.

The instant she’s done, she snatches up the receiver off her phone desk. It rings for a few moments before connecting, and Dot speaks into it urgently. “I need a meeting with The Handler. _Now.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, surprisingly, Vanya has a good day. Klaus's, however, goes from bad to worse -- but hey, at least Five's alive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this simply took forever :O Sorry about that, this chapter didn't want to end.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read/left kudos/reviewed last chapter! You mean everything to me, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too :)

When Vanya wakes up and wanders to her living-room, she isn’t really surprised to find her brother gone. She's disappointed, though, and it makes something in her chest ache. She wishes he had stayed.

She sighs, softly, as she cleans up after him — puts away the blanket, washes the glass he'd used — but she doesn't let herself dwell on it too much.

Klaus can handle himself. He’s not exactly good at it, and Vanya wishes he would let her — or anyone, really — help, but he can. That has to be enough.

All this kind of kills her appetite, though. Not that Vanya ever really eats much in the mornings, but today, she’s just not feeling up for food — there isn’t any, anyway, since she’d given the last of her bread to Klaus last night. So instead of breakfast, she decides to just pour herself some coffee before she has to take her shower. 

Maybe the world will seem less bleak after that.

It doesn’t, but Vanya does feel more awake when she stumbles out of her shower, clumsily reaching out to wipe condensation off the bathroom's mirror while she dries herself off and pulls on her clothes. Her reflection stares back at her tiredly, and Vanya shakes her head before reaching inside the cabinet for the pills she keeps there.

It’s only as she pulls out the bottle that she remembers she finishes them last night. “Shit,” she whispers to herself.

_ This day just keeps getting better, _ she thinks wryly, making a mental note not to forget ordering more this afternoon. 

It doesn’t get any better from there. Her spare bottle isn’t in the kitchen where she left it, and Vanya goes through the room three times before she’s forced to admit that it simply isn’t there.

Suddenly, her brother’s departure in the middle of the night makes a lot more sense, and Vanya curses out loud. "Fuck."

She can feel her heart starting to race, her hands anxiously shaking. Vanya’s been on these pills all of her life — she can’t imagine going without, even if just for a day.

It’s enough to make her consider staying home today, but one look to her violin case has her shaking her head.

No, Vanya can’t miss rehearsal today. They’re starting on a new piece, and she has worked too hard to get there.

She can handle one day without her pills, Vanya suddenly decides. 

Her mind wanders back to that one time where she hadn't had a refill ready, a couple of years back. Vanya had spent those days anxiously counting down the pills she had left until that refill could get there — but Vanya's older now, she can manage. She'll talk to her doctor in the afternoon, get her pills tomorrow, and everything will be fine.

One day without her medication will be fine.

Vanya’s eyes fall on the clock, and she swears again. All this woolgathering ate up her morning, and now she’s going to be late if she doesn't leave right now.

She grabs her violin and hobbles up to the door, putting on her shoes and coat before running down the stairs and into the street to hail a cab.

 

* * *

 

Despite Vanya's initial nerves, she gets to rehearsal on time, and it goes well. Really well, actually — better than it has in... well, possibly ever.

Several times, Vanya catches her fellow musicians  _ and _ the director sending her odd looks, and for once, it’s not because she’s missed a note, but rather because she hit a difficult part and played it  _ well. _

It’s a little thrilling actually, even if Vanya’s not sure how to handle this sudden (and positive) attention.

She’s relieved when rehearsal finally ends. Relieved and a little disappointed, because Vanya feels like she could have gone on longer, like if they just kept practicing she could just… let the music carry her away.

But she’s never felt like this before, and that, plus all the looks she could feel on her, have Vanya ducking into the bathroom pretty much the instant rehearsal ends.

She’s splashing water on her face in an effort to calm down when the door opens.

Vanya startles, hurrying to shut off the water as Helen walks in. Even in this setting, the first violin cuts an impressive figure that has Vanya shrink on herself as she dries off her face.

“Vanya.”

Helen’s voice breaks the silence, and Vanya’s heart jumps in her chest. She turns to face the other woman. “Yes?” she asks.

"A few of us are getting lunch together,” Helen states, matter-of-fact. Her eyes stare into Vanya’s like a laser. “Do you want to join?"

As if on cue, Vanya’s stomach grumbles, reminding her she didn’t have any breakfast. She wants to, wants to be included in  _ something _ for once in her life so desperately she can taste it, but…  "You've never invited me before.” She frowns. “I didn’t even know you knew my name.”

“I didn’t,” Helen admits, shrugging.

Vanya flinches back, swallowing the hurt. “Then why invite me now?"

Helen shrugs again, her eyes leaving Vanya’s face to stare at the instrument she placed against the wall. “I fear I might have misjudged you,” she replies, waving toward the violin. “I thought you didn’t care about this. Honestly, I couldn’t figure out why you were here.”

“I do care,” Vanya protests, hands curling up into fists. “I love the violin, and I love music.

Vanya expects Helen to get mad, or perhaps even leave, but she just smiles. 

"Like I said, I think I’ve misjudged you. So, do you want to come or not? You don’t have to," she adds, her voice softening.

Vanya swallows. She looks away. She thinks about what waits for her if she doesn’t go — an empty apartment, with its equally empty cupboards and fridge — and she nods before she even knows she's doing it.

Helen smiles. "Great,” she says before turning on her heels. “Then hurry up, we're meeting out front."

 

* * *

 

‘We’ turns out to be the other women at the orchestra — Sheyla, their harpist **,** a plump cheerful woman who somehow reminds Vanya of her sister, Emily, a tall and thin blonde-haired woman who plays the flute and looks oddly familiar, and Kathy, who might actually be  _ shorter _ than Vanya and plays the clarinet.

They actually seem glad to have Vanya joining them, and Vanya spends the short walk to the restaurant they picked failing miserably at reminding herself not to stress too much.

Helen slips in as they open the door, whispering, “Just relax,” in her ear, and Vanya does her best to follow that advice.

The food helps — a lot, actually — and what starts as a simple lunch ends up running well into the afternoon. 

At some point, a waiter clears their table, and they replace the food with a bottle of wine and more water.

It’s a little awkward at first — Vanya’s never really talked with these people before, and all they know about each other is names and that they can play music, but somehow, that’s enough.

Helen and Vanya are the only two to play the violin, but Sheyla confesses in a laugh that she’d had lessons for about three months as a kid.

“I didn’t know that,” Helen replies, sounding surprised.

“Why didn’t you continue?” Vanya blurts out, her cheeks flushing pink when attention turns to her. She takes a long drink of her water to slow her racing heart, and licks her lips. “I mean, you could have kept playing.”

Sheyla laughs and shakes her head. “I really couldn’t have. I was terrible at it.”

“Nobody starts off as great, though,” Vanya counters, thinking about her students. All of them, even the couple of really skilled kids she’s taught — the ones she could call prodigies — had started off rather poorly. “And three months isn’t that much time to learn an instrument.”

Beside her, Helen nods in agreement.

Sheyla looks almost surprised at Vanya's defense, and Vanya can feel her cheeks growing redder.

"That's right," Emily states, snapping her fingers. "You give lessons, don't you?"

"I... Yes," Vanya nods. "I do. How did you know?"

"You're teaching my nephew," Emily replies, like this isn't news to Vanya. She chokes on her water, coughing and struggling to clear her airways.

“I am?” Vanya manages to choke out while Kathy slaps her back. “Thanks,” Vanya tells her, and Kathy just shrugs her off with a smile. “Don’t mention it.”

“Yeah.” Emily nods. “His name’s Ethan?”

Vanya’s eyes go wide. She coughs again, swallows. “Ah, yes, Ethan. He’s…”

Emily laughs, waving a hand through the air. “He’s terrible, we know. But for some reason, he’s fixated on the violin as the instrument he wants to play, and your lessons have made him marginally better, so thank you.”

“He’s improved a lot over the last month alone,” Vanya retorts defensively, frowning. “And he’s working very hard — I think he could make it.”

Something glints through Emily’s eyes, and the woman’s smile eases into something softer.

“That’s good to hear,” Emily replies, and Vanya realizes she’s just passed some kind of test.

“I just realized,” Helen suddenly cuts in, lips curled up into a smirk. “With Vanya here, and Sheyla confessing she did play the violin at one point, we violinists hold the majority.”

Kathy lets out a loud groan. “God, not again,” she mutters, while Sheyla starts shaking her head, “No, no, you’re not dragging me into this again.”

“I… What’s going on?” Vanya asks, staring with bewilderment as Emily slams her empty glass on the table and starts extolling on the virtues of the flute.

Helen’s defense of the violin is less emotional but no less fierce, and Vanya has never felt more confused.

When she turns her head, her eyes catch Kathy's, who nods commiseratingly. "They do that," she says. And then, with a wince, she adds, "I'm sorry. We  _ are _ glad you joined us, you know?" 

Sheyla nods. “We’re not always that much of a mess, I swear,” she says. “But these two have quite the rivalry, and Emily can’t hold her alcohol —” she points at Emily’s one glass of wine, empty now. “Well, this happens.”

"It's fine," Vanya replies, fingering her napkin. She's surprised to find that she actually means it. "I've grown up with worse," she confesses, a smile catching on her lips as she remembers some of the fights her siblings had — particularly Luther and Diego.

This is nicer though, she thinks. She can see that both Emily and Helen are having fun, even if they're both getting rather loud.

“Sounds fun,” Sheyla says, and Vanya’s attention snaps back to her, Emily and Helen’s argument fading to the background.

“Not really.” 

“Oh.” Sheyla winces. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Vanya replies awkwardly. “I just don’t really, erm, talk about it?”

She had used to want to — that was why she had written her book in the first place. But when that book had failed, and all she’d gotten from her siblings was scorn and disdain… Well, Vanya had kind of lost her taste for it.

“I get that. Family’s complicated,” Kathy replies, nodding.

Vanya snorts. “You can say that again,” she mutters.

Their conversation dies down a bit, and by default,  Vanya can’t help but go back to Helen and Emily. They seem to have upgraded from the violin versus flute part of the argument to the more general string instruments versus wind instruments part, and they have grown more enthused with it.

“Should we… stop them?” Vanya finally asks. She doesn’t know how long the two women have been at it, but it’s been a while. Vanya’s honestly surprised nobody’s come to kick them out yet — though that may have to do with their group being the only ones left in the place.

Kathy and Sheyla exchange a look, and Vanya almost regrets asking. Anxiety bubbles in her chest, and habit has her reaching for her pills before she remembers she doesn’t have any.

“Good idea,” Kathy replies, breaking Vanya out of her downward spiral. “We don’t want a repeat of last month — I  _ like _ this place.”

That sounds oddly ominous, and Vanya bites back a grin.

Before she can ask how Kathy plans on stopping Helen and Emily though, Kathy leans forward and snaps her fingers in front of the two women's faces. It somehow breaks through to them, cutting them off in the middle of their sentences. Tense silent hangs in the air for about a second, before Helen scoffs.

"I hate it when you do that." 

Helen’s glare and Emily’s pout make Kathy grin. "I know. But we were growing tired of listening to the two of you argue.”

“We weren’t arguing,” Helen retorts. “We were having a passionate discussion.”

Emily snorts loudly. “That you were losing,” she points out.

Helen visibly bristles. “Why you —”

“Okay,” Sheyla interrupts. “Why don’t we settle this another way? A more  _ interesting, civilized _ way.” The look she shoots Kathy is meaningful. 

"The usual?" Helen asks, a glint of interest shining in her dark eyes.

Kathy and Sheyla nod. "Well, sort of," Sheyla corrects. "I was thinking Vanya could be our judge this time.”

"She's a violinist too," Emily protests at the same time that Helen says, "Good idea!"

"No offense," Emily adds, nodding to Vanya, "but you'd be biased."

Vanya just blinks, perplexed. "Judge what exactly...?"

"Just a little competition," Sheyla replies, smiling. "You pick a piece, they both play it using their instrument, and whoever plays it better wins. Well, at least until the next time they argue and have to do this again."

Vanya licks her lips, staring into each of their faces one after the other.

"You... all really want me to do this?"

Sheyla shrugs, but Helen is the one to answer. "Why not?" she asks languidly. "You can do it, can't you?"

"Of course," Vanya retorts before she can think it through, Helen's cool gaze lighting a spark inside her mind. "Of course I can.  _ I will." _

“Great. Let’s go then.”

Vanya startles. “What, now?”

Helen shrugs. She stands up. “When better — we need to prove that the violin is the superior instrument.”

“In your dreams, maybe,” Emily retorts, putting on her coat. “And no cheating,” she adds, pointing her finger at Vanya.

“I would  _ never,”  _ Vanya retorts, offended. “I’m not — I wouldn’t.” To her horror, she feels her cheeks flush again, and lets her mouth falls shut with a click before she embarrasses herself.

_ Breathe in, breathe out. _ Vanya follows her old therapist’s advice, and feels her frustration ebb away. “I don’t do favoritism,” she states, squaring her shoulders.

“Good,” Emily replies, the wind taken from her sails. “That’s good.”

Vanya nods briskly back, and puts on her own coat.

It’s only once they’re outside, and Vanya sees that the sun is well on its way down the horizon, that she remembers about Klaus, her pills, and the phone call she now has to make.

“Sorry,” she says, pointing at a nearby cabin. “I didn’t realize it was this late already, I have to make a call.”

“Take your time,” Helen replies. “We can wait.”

“It shouldn’t take long,” Vanya reassures her anyway, before hurrying to the phone cabin.

The number of her doctor is one she knows so well Vanya could probably type it in her sleep. He picks up on the second ring, his crisp “Hello,” barely distorted through the line.

He stays silent as Vanya explains her problem. She doesn’t mention Klaus, of course — what good would it do? she doesn’t know where her brother went, an even if she did, she suspects they wouldn’t find her pills anyway — just tells him she lost her spare bottle just as she was finishing the previous one, and that now she urgently needs a refill.

This is when her doctor finally speaks. "But you still have enough to last until you can pick up a refill?"

Vanya hesitates.

She must have stayed silent a moment too long, because the doctor's voice turns concerned. "Vanya?"

She doesn't know what compels her to lie, to tell him that she has enough to last her until she can get that refill. Perhaps it's the fact that this day has actually been good, despite its admittedly rocky start. In fact, this might be one of the best days Vanya can remember having in... possibly ever.

But the doctor sounds relieved when she tells him that she can wait, and well, Vanya’s known him practically her entire life. She’s probably worried him enough — if she can take some small measure of that off his shoulders now, she thinks she should.

They end the call shortly after that, with Vanya getting the promise of being able to pick up new bottles at her pharmacy tomorrow afternoon.

When Vanya returns to the restaurant, Helen is the only one there, leaning against the wall. She pushes herself off it when Vanya arrives.

“Where did the others go?” Vanya asks.

“They went on ahead,” Helen replies, nodding in the direction of the conservatory. They start walking. “They wanted to make sure we’d get some kind of room that wasn’t a broom closet.”

At Vanya’s confused look, she smiles — not a smirk, a smile. It looks good on her, makes her look kinder. “Long story.”

Vany nods. “Okay. Thanks," she adds after a beat. "For inviting me, I mean."

Helen's gaze remains inscrutable for long enough that Vanya starts to fidget, but it's not enough to dispel how  _ nice _ today has turned out to be.

“You’re welcome,” Helen finally says.

They walk the rest of the way in comforting silence, Vanya’s mind racing to find an appropriate piece for this makeshift competition.

It’s… fun. Vanya can’t remember the last time she did something because it was fun.

It feels kind of a shame, really, when it feels so good.

 

* * *

 

Five doesn't actually spend much time  _ at _ the Commission headquarters. It’s one of the perks of not needing a suitcase to time travel, really —  he doesn't have to go back every time he completes a mission just to get it serviced, and he can just jump from one mission to the next.

Of course, this also means the commission had to get... creative to track his movements throughout the timeline — but Five thinks the trade-off might be worth it.  

However, today — for whatever value the notion of ‘today’ has in a timeless place like the Commission — Five is due for a report — his last mission went well, of course, but for some reason, The Handler wants to hear it from him directly rather than from his report.

It's frustrating, and a bother, as it eats up precious time he could spend on more... fruitful ventures (like stopping the apocalypse — Five is getting really close with those equations, no matter what Delores is saying).

He walks into the briefcase room at the same time as two agents are preparing to enter it. They’re actually signing their papers to leave — insurance for the briefcase, because nothing screams time travel like bureaucracy (another reason Five is glad he doesn’t have to use them) — and one of them looks up to wave at him.

"Oh, hey Five."

Five grunts back a greeting and tries to hurry past them.

Clearly, the guy somehow doesn’t get the message, because after signing his papers with a flourish, he ignores his partner’s attempts at trying to shush him and addresses Five instead.

"Back already? God, they're really working us to the bone here, aren’t they? Why, we just came back from and now we're off again already. And all this just to get some pills off a junkie?"

Five doesn’t know why he stops at that. He usually couldn’t care less about whatever mission those dumb goons are about to be sent on. Honestly, the less he knows the better.

But something about this guy’s words gives him pause. Absurdly, he thinks about his family, about Vanya’s book. He had re-read it recently — just yesterday, in fact, waiting for his target to get in position. Maybe that’s why he’s thinking about it now. 

Klaus is an addict, Vanya’s book had said. It hadn’t been that much of a surprise, really, but Five had still been… disappointed, to learn that their brother had succumbed to his fears so.

A junkie, Vanya had called him once, and maybe that’s the word association that has him turning around.

With time travel in play, Five knows better than to assume anyone is safe — he’s proved the contrary countless times, even. Of course, he expects Goon One and Goon Two’s story to be utterly irrelevant, but well, it can’t hurt to check.

He still has plenty of time before his meeting with The Handler.

“When are you going?” he asks, turning around and feigning interest.

It always works — Goons One and Two are young, and they’ve doubtlessly heard of him. Perhaps they even trust him, fools that they are — well, Goon One does at least. His partner is more sensible, and seems more reluctant to.

“2016,” Goon One replies quickly, earning himself an elbow to the side from his partner.

It’s not exactly protocol to talk about your missions, but it’s also not  _ not _ protocol. It’s not actually written down anywhere, and that’s a fact Five has taken advantage of a few times before.

“I’ve never been to 2016,” Five states, his mind already racing to add this to his calculations. It might be nothing, but he still tries to take note of every mission he knows happens close to The Date — with The Handler’s dedication to ‘keeping the timeline intact’ (and on track to the Apocalypse), Five can never know what might end up being relevant to his mission, and he has so far been unable to jump anywhere relevant to his personal timeline.

“It’s not that great,” Goon Two replies, but he’s clearly warming up to Five now that he thinks he knows something Five doesn’t.

“Yeah, and we won’t even be there long,” Goon One adds. “This mission’s urgent and everything — they don’t want us to linger there long. Just a quick in and out.”

Five nods. “Those are usually the best missions.”

Goon One nods. “The pay’s pretty good,” he agrees.

“Especially since the job’s so easy,” Goon two adds with a snort. “Come on, getting some pills off one guy? How hard can that be?”

It’s so easy to let them bicker — they’re clearly used to it. It’s even easier to reach between them for the mission brief he’s seen sticking out of Goon Two’s pocket.

(Somebody should really tell him that they’re not supposed to keep them after they’ve read the mission statement.)

The first time Five reads the handful of words on that paper, though, he doesn’t quite believe them.

He doesn’t believe them any more on the second reading, or the fifth, nor the tenth. But the words do not change no matter how many times he stares at them, and slowly, the realization that Five  _ has to do something _ trickles in his mind.

Because for some absurd reason, Goon One and Two’s mission involve  _ his brother, _ and Five knows for a fact he isn’t supposed to die in 2016.

It doesn’t make any sense, and yet, it also paradoxically kind of does. Five should have expected one of his siblings to do something to fuck up the timeline — that it hasn’t happened yet is actually probably a miracle.

But… Maybe he can use this to his advantage. This has to do with the Apocalypse, it just has to — Five knows that’s the goal the Commission is secretly working with, and for agents to be sent so close to it, this mission absolutely has to be related somehow. Moreso since it involves his family.

Five hadn't planned on going back yet. His contract with the Commission isn't finished yet, and he hasn't learned enough about the Apocalypse to stop it.

Still, this might be his best chance.

His equations are still off, but not off enough that they wouldn’t  _ work, _ no matter what Delores thinks. They were mostly fine-tuning them anyway.

He’s so preoccupied with those thoughts, with the math that has suddenly become so much more urgent, that he almost misses his chance to put the paper back where he found it.

“Well, we should be off,” Goon One says, the clear end to a conversation Five didn’t listen to a word of.

“Of course,” he replies, his mind elsewhere. “I have a meeting to get to myself, anyway.”

He does too, at that. Just… not the one he’d thought he’d get to when he’d come here today.

And probably not the one the two goons are thinking of either.

 

* * *

 

Vanya’s pills are  _ strong. _ Klaus has no idea what’s in them, but whatever it is, it acts quickly, and it hits him with all the subtlety of a semi-truck.

Or an elephant.

The pills create a kind of haze, dulling the world. It’s hard to describe it, but the best way to would be to say that it’s like there is a kind of... distance between him and the rest of the world? 

And it’s not even a fun distance, like the one Klaus spends his time chasing. He doesn’t feel high, or happily free of his problems — instead, he just feels weighed down.

A quick look to the side tells him that, whatever those pills are doing, they’re not actually helping with the ghost issue. Ben’s still there, clear as ever — not that that is always a reliable tell, because his brother is stubborn enough to stick around when Klaus is high about half the time.

Klaus pouts down at the bottle of pills, shaking it a little before putting it back in his coat pocket.

“Well, that was disappointing,” he says with a sigh. 

He only realizes he's been narrating his thoughts all along when Ben goes, "And Vanya takes those?"

"They must help her?" Klaus replies, but at Ben’s insistent and worried look, he digs the bottle back out of his pocket, moving to stand under a streetlight when the early morning sunlight proves to not be enough to read the label properly.

This time, he takes care to look at the labeling, and he frowns as he finds he can’t recognize any of the drug names on it. 

And Klaus knows his drugs. "What even is in those?"

The only other inscriptions on the bottle, apart from his sister’s name, are a doctor’s name and ‘Take as needed’.

"That sounds..." Ben starts, frowning.

“Fishy?" Klaus snorts. "’Take as needed', god, what I wouldn't give to get a prescription like that — hey, d'ya think they have medication that'd help me?"

"I thought that's what you used the drugs for," Ben replies dryly.

Klaus gasps, putting a hand over his heart. "That hurt, bro. I thought you didn’t judge me." It’s an absolute lie, because Ben is the judgiest person/ghost Klaus knows, but they both pretend like he isn’t.

Denial, not just a river in Egypt.

"I'm not," Ben replies, rolling his eyes. He sighs. "I just... worry. You know I don't like seeing you do this to yourself — much less using weird unknown drugs like this,” he adds, gesturing at Vanya’s pills.

Klaus pastes on a grin. “Well, don’t worry — I’m not planning on  _ keeping _ those, not now that I know they’re really not doing it for me.”

“You could bring them back to Vanya,” Ben coaxes. “Get that breakfast she promised.”

Klaus shakes his head, ignoring him. “Or… I could trade those in for something that  _ does  _ work for me.” He nods to himself. “Yeah, that sounds better.”

When he leaves the alley, Ben follows him silently.

 

* * *

 

It takes them the better part of the day to find someone Klaus can trade in Vanya’s pills to, and by then, the effects have worn off. 

They did fetch him a pretty good price, though, so Klaus isn’t that put off about it. The little plastic bag he dangles from his fingers, filled with colorful little pills, has been, in his opinion, well worth the hassle.

"So, how many of these do you think I should take? One? Two? More?" he asks Ben, wiggling his eyebrows and shaking the little bag again.

Ben's unimpressed face is usually fun to mock. In fact, Klaus knows it so well he could draw it — has, in fact, done so a couple of times in rehab, when some therapist got it in their head that Klaus needed a “creative outlet for his demons” (Ben’s face when Klaus had called him a “demon” right after had been hilarious).

But Ben doesn’t look unimpressed right now, or judgy.

He looks alarmed, and Klaus frowns, fingers curling into fists as he pulls the bag closer to himself. "What is —"

He doesn’t get the chance to finish before Ben is hissing,  _ "Behind you!" _

When Klaus spins around, there are two guys there. They’re perfectly nondescript — white, dull haircuts and duller suits, and at first, he thinks cops; but no. 

Klaus has never seen cops look like  _ that. _

He puts on best smile and waves at them cheerfully. "Howdy there, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” he asks, already casting his eyes around trying to find an exit.

“Klaus Hargreeves?” one of them asks, and  _ shit, _ they know his name, that can’t be good.

“They’re alive, right?” he hisses to Ben.

“I think so,” Ben replies. He tilts his head. “They look alive, anyway.” His brother bites his lips. “Klaus, I think you need to get out of here — I have a bad feeling about this.”

_ “I’m trying,” _   Klaus hisses between his teeth, because Ben isn’t the only one to get the creepy vibes coming off those two.

Speaking of, they’ve clearly grown tired of waiting for an answer, seemingly taking Klaus's silence for a positive answer.

They move  _ fast. _

Klaus doesn’t even know which of them grabs him, pinning his arms to his sides. “Shit,” Klaus hisses, trying to kick backward, but all that seems to do is make the guy’s hold on him tighter.

Klaus would scream, but really, in these parts of the city, nobody will care — well, Ben cares, but it’s not like he can help.

“You know, if I owe you like, money or something, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.” He throws in a wink at the asshole not holding him, but all the man does is stares blankly and pluck the bag of pills Klaus had just purchased.

“Hey, that’s mine — I  _ paid _ for these,” Klaus protests, jerking his head backward in a failed attempt at a headbutt.

“Thank this is it?” the man asks, ignoring him.

“I don’t think so,” asshole one replies. “But I think that'll do it."

"Do what?" Klaus asks, but even as he asks he’s suddenly absolutely sure he doesn’t want to know the answer to that.

His dread only worsens as asshole two starts taking out the pills — and yeah, Klaus’s done some stupid things in his life, but he’s not  _ stupid, _ and he’s pretty sure that wouldn’t be the kind of OD he’d come back from.

“You need to get out of here,” Ben repeats, an anxious specter by the side. “Klaus, come on.”

_ “I’m trying,” _ Klaus repeats, even though he’s fairly sure his brother isn’t exactly speaking to him anymore.

And he is trying, but it’s not like he’s particularly strong on a _ good  _ day, which this isn’t. And yeah, Klaus can usually handle himself against most people, but these guys, whoever they are, don’t appear to be  _ most people. _

Asshole two is getting closer no matter how hard Klaus tries to get away, and the thought,  _ Maybe this is it, _ crosses through his mind, soft and fleeting.

Klaus doesn’t get to dwell on it, because in the next instant, the air splits open into a blue, swirling gap.

“What the fuck,” asshole two breathes.

"You're seeing this too, right?” he asks Ben, eyes riveted to the swirling mess. It’s loud, somehow, but not with any sound Klaus recognizes. In the distance, somehow, he thinks he can see someone. “This isn't just a side effect of the drugs?"

"Yeah, I'm seeing it too," Ben replies, moving closer to the hole/thing.

Wisely, he doesn’t actually try to touch it — even though Klaus can tell he wants to — and just circles it instead.

Even his two would-be assassins suddenly look cautious, and when asshole one’s grip on him loosens from the shock, Klaus takes a chance and wiggles free.

Asshole one tries to catch him again, but all he grabs onto is empty air — Klaus is already running.

He hears swearing, but no footsteps yet — clearly, whatever that blue thing is, it takes priority on him for now. Klaus doesn’t have much hope of that lasting long, but right now, he’ll take however much time he can get.

He ducks into the first alley he sees, and almost freezes when he sees that it's a dead end. "Fuck fuck fuck, what do I do?" he swears, spinning in circles. “What do I do?”

"Why are you asking me?"

"Well, you're the only one there," Klaus retorts, before shouting triumphantly as he spots a fire escape. "Looks like we're going up."

"That doesn't look safe."

"Beats whatever those two ass-clowns have planned though," Klaus points out, and he starts jumping up to catch onto the railing.

It takes him three tries, each of them making his heart race faster and his hands slicker.

“Hurry,” Ben shouts from the mouth of the alley. “They’re coming!”

Klaus swears again, but this time, when he jumps, he manages to catch the railing. He scrambles himself up, heaving, and shouts Ben a thumbs up — only to screech as he sees the guys have caught up to him.

Asshole one — or is that two? Klaus can’t keep track of them, they really do look too much alike — has a gun pulled out, and he shoots the wall next to him. 

Klaus shrieks as he dives down.

“This’ll be easier on you if you just… come down,” asshole one says. Klaus can hear and see them stepping closer through the grating his face is mashed into, but ignoring them when they sound so much like stereotypical villains is rather easy.

He half-considers making a run for it. The building isn’t that tall — he’d only have to climb like, four floors before getting to the rooftops, and then he’d be able to run without having to avoid bullets.

He can feel Ben practically vibrating with anxiety next to him as he starts to eye the staircase in consideration. "Don't do anything stupid, Klaus."

Klaus pulls a face at him, but a second warning shot ends up making the decision for him.

"You know, we were gonna do this the easy way," asshole one laments from below. "Have you overdose, nobody would question it — nice and easy."

“Yeah, pass,” Klaus shouts back. “As much as I’d love going out with a blast, I think I’ll just have to say no.”

From his perch, he can see asshole two open his mouth to answer — but before he can speak, he goes down. He falls to his knees, gasping, but Klaus has seen enough ghosts to recognize someone dying, even from this distance.

“Shit,” he curses, scrambling to his feet. He can’t go up without getting shot or shot at again, but perhaps if he goes back  _ down... _ Klaus runs through Dad's lessons on guns in his mind —  perhaps the one thing the man had done for them — and swings himself down.

Asshole one is distracted by his downed comrade; Klaus won’t get a better chance to get away.

_ If _ he can get away from that gun.

_ Guns have a certain range of efficacy,  _ Reginald Hargreeves’s harsh voice echoes in his head. _ Get up close, and they can become a hindrance for them, and an advantage for you. _

_ Yeah, thanks Dad, but no thanks, _ Klaus thinks back wryly. Experience has taught him that  _ avoiding _ firearms is usually a surer way to stay alive.

A peek into the alley has him seeing the knife sticking out of asshole two’s back, and yup, he’s definitely dead. One doesn't need to see ghosts to know that.

_ What the fuck is going on? _ Klaus wonders as he drops down from the fire escape.

He aims for the dumpster, planning to hide behind it. It’s a bit of a run, but asshole one is currently facing the other way, gun pointed into the poorly lit alley.

Klaus holes up behind the cover of the dumpster, and pretends he’s not there.

There’s another flash, impossibly familiar. Beside him, Ben gasps his name in wonder, but Klaus barely hears him.

At first, Klaus thinks it might be Diego, up to his normal vigilante stuff — him being out in the relative daylight doesn’t quite make sense, but it’s also not the craziest thing about today. The knife is definitely his signature, too.

Only Diego isn't the one who slams into asshole one's back, sending him down with a cut-off shout. That figure is way too small to be Diego, and Klaus can only watch, stunned, as the two figures struggle for a few moments before a loud ‘crack’ echoes in the alley.

For a long instant, all Klaus can hear is his own heart racing.

Because he knows that figure — that boy. It’s impossible, but he  _ does. _

"What the fuck,” he breathes, gingerly standing up. “Five?" The name falls from his lips before he can stop it, and the hope that comes with it  _ hurts. _

He turns to Ben, who for once looks as stunned as Klaus feels. “You see him too, right?” 

“I see him.” Ben nods, his voice strangled.

Five doesn’t look at them — instead, he sneers down at himself, picking at the too big suit that hangs off his frame with a disgusted scowl. 

“Man, what even  _ was _ in those drugs?”

Ben snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think you can blame the drugs for that one.”

Almost as one, their eyes fall back to Number Five, cursing as he starts rifling through the pockets of the two men they’ve just watched him  _ kill, _ because that’s a thing he does now, apparently.

God, thirteen years, and when Five reappears it’s in the middle of  _ this _ — whatever  _ this _ even is.

…

Yeah, Klaus isn’t actually surprised. Well, not that much anyway. Whatever crazy shit is up with Five is clearly on par with the rest of the crazy shit that is their lives, and has always been their lives.

But still…

_ Five. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Vanya friends because I could, and because she deserves them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up until Five snarls and grabs him by the arm to drag him along to god knows where, Klaus is still about ninety percent sure his brother is some kind of drug/withdrawal-related hallucination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this story has apparently decided that long chapters is the way to go... Because the characters just won't stop talking (cwl)
> 
> Anyway, I'm really blown away by all of your answers - I'm so glad you've enjoying this, and that you guys liked Vanya's squad :p They were fun to write :)

Up until Five snarls and grabs him by the arm to drag him along to god knows where, Klaus is still about ninety percent sure his brother is some kind of drug/withdrawal-related hallucination.

He has had those before — though never quite so detailed, nor about Five, of all people — which is why he thinks Five’s (and Ben’s) bitch faces when he screams when Five touches his arm are totally unwarranted.

“Five?” Klaus’s voice goes strangled as he flails backward. "What the fuck is going on?” He rocks on his heels for a second before leaning in to poke at his (very short) brother.

Five bats his hand away with a growl.

Klaus hisses, pulling his hand back to himself with a pout.

He feels... He feels....

Honestly, Klaus has no idea how he feels, except that this is very, very weird — even for him, and he can see the dead.

Speaking of dead... His eyes slide back toward the two cooling corpses in the alley. Klaus doesn't see their ghosts, but that doesn't exactly mean anything -- just because they aren't here now doesn't mean they won't be back later, because Klaus's powers like to screw him over that way.

Ben wanders in his line of sight, blocking it, and Klaus hoots him a grateful look even as his brother pointedly nods toward Five. "Focus, Klaus."

Right, focusing.

“Five... Is that really you?"

Five snarls and straightens up from where he had bent down to roll up pants legs. "Yes, it's me." Another growl and he ditches his suit jacket, before tucking in the ends of what is clearly a too big shirt.

Ben hovers beside Five, the expression on his face one of such heartbreaking wonder Klaus has to look away.

"Ask him if he’s okay,” Ben voices urgently.

And Klaus would, he really would, except that he’s now definitely coming down from an adrenaline rush and, "Holy shit, those guys just tried to _kill me."_

"Yes, and unless we _move_ now, there'll be more soon. So come on," Five replies, grabbing Klaus’s arm again and pulling.

Klaus stumbles forward. "Wait, how do you even know all this?"

Five growls and only starts pulling harder. "We don't have time for this. We need to get out of here."

"Hey hey hey,” Klas protests. “You can't just pop up after almost fifteen years, looking like this,” he waves at Five

“You just gestured at all of me,” Five deadpans.

“That’s because _all of you_ is weird. Did you rob some grandpa of his clothes? Also, you still have blood on you.”

Five frowns. “Where?”

Klaus blinks, and then points at Five’s neck. “Um, there.”

"Oh," Five says, absently reaching up to wipe it. "Thanks."

"... You're welcome," Klaus replies, deciding not to mention that Five's actions definitely didn't help and just spread the blood on his skin. "But this doesn't explain why you're here _now,_ just being all, ninja-y —”

“Is that even a word,” Ben interjects, frowning.

Klaus hisses back at him without missing a beat, before turning back to Five. _“How_ are you even here?

“Like I said, we don’t have the time for that right now. _Let’s go.”_

"You should go with him," Ben agrees.

Klaus shoots him a betrayed look, but Ben just shrugs. "Do you have a better idea? Or any idea? Five," and if Ben's voice chokes up a little around their brother's name, Klaus kindly ignores it, “seems to have a plan, you should go with him.”

And then, he adds, “He did just save your life.”

Klaus throws his arms in the air — well, _arm,_ singular, since one of them is still clutched in Five’s merciless grip. “Ugh, _fine._ We can go." Klaus flaps his hands through the air, and adds in a grumpy mutter, "Wherever it is that you want us to go."

Five ignores it and shoots him the fakest grateful grin Klaus has ever seen — honestly, it looks kind of terrifying, and Klaus shivers. It's the teeth, he decides. Five's grin has far too many of those.

"Much obliged," Five replies, and he starts walking away at a brisk pace, Klaus hurrying after him.

 

* * *

 

They end up in a nearby park, by the one bench that somehow overlooks the entirety of the park, and all its entrances. It’s late enough in the day for it to be mostly empty while also being early enough for them to have some time before, well, people like Klaus start coming out of the woodwork.

… Come to think of it, Klaus’s pretty sure he’s spent a few nights in this place already.

Five starts patting his clothes nervously as Klaus slumps on the bench with a loud moan that gets him the side-eye from _both_ his brothers.

And damn, but if Klaus hadn’t forgotten how good Five was at judgemental looks.

Still, the silence between them grows awkward. There’s only so much pretending-to-watch-the-people-in-the-park-while-making-sure-his-miraculously-returned brother-is-actually-still-miraculously-there Klaus can do, after all.

Five doesn’t seem very eager to say anything, and Klaus shoots Ben a pleading _'Now what?'_ look. Ben just shrugs, looking back at a scowling Five pointedly.

Klaus sighs.

"So... Not that I don't appreciate you coming in to the rescue but, erm, what the fuck? Can I get an explanation for… well, everything that just happened? Why are you here? How are you here? Where have you been? And who were those guys?"

Klaus pauses, heaving, but his words don’t seem to register with Five, who seems busy examining the park carefully, eyes going up and down every single person there, before he finally nods. "It should be safe for now." He nods to himself again, and turns to Klaus. "Do you have a knife?"

Klaus sputters. "Do I have a — no, I do not have a _knife,_ who do you think I am, Diego? Of course, I don't have a knife, don't _you_ have a knife?"

Five grimaces. "I did, but in case it escaped your notice, I’ve already used it."

"Ah. Right." Klaus swallows, laughing nervously. He falls silent for a moment before licking his lips. “... I remember you being less….” He waves his right hand. “Murdery.”

“Well, I remember you being less of a junkie,” Five retorts, scowling nastily.

Klaus just laughs. “Well, you were gone for an awfully long time. Things changed.” He shrugs, before straightening up and leaning toward his brother. “Speaking of… I don’t suppose you have anything for me?” He bats his eyelashes, and bites back a chuckle when Five’s brow furrows in confusion.

Klaus can tell when he gets it, because Five's scowl returns, and he lets out a disgusted sound. "No. And," he adds, snatching Klaus's wrist before Klaus can get up, "you're not going to go look for more. I need you alert — if the Commission came after you, they had to have a reason. I need to figure out what it was."

Klaus scratches his head. "Right, about that, who were those guys?"

“That’s not important right now,” Five replies, shaking his head.

 _“They tried to kill me,”_ Klaus sputters. "I value my life!"

"Right," Five retorts, shooting him a look as dry as the desert.

Beside him, Ben laughs. "He's got you there," he says, and Klaus hisses back at him.

Five ignores him, frowning. "I need a knife. Or something sharp."

"I do hope you're not planning on using that on me," Klaus chimes in.

Five scoffs. "Don't be stupid, if I wanted you dead, I would just have left the Commission do it." Before Klaus can ask him again about those Commission guys and why they wanted to _kill him,_ Five continues, "Are you sure you don't have a knife?"

He doesn't wait for Five to answer negatively, and just scowls again before bringing his fists up. In a flash of blue, he's gone.

Klaus gapes. He turns to Ben. “I didn’t hallucinate that, right? Five was there. _Five.”_

Ben doesn’t get to reply before Five returns in another flash.

This time, though, he’s carrying a steak knife.

Klaus yelps and jerks back in surprise. "Careful where you point that thing!"

Five rolls his eyes at him, but he does lower the knife a little. "Don't be so childish," he states with a dark look. "It's just a knife."

It's also so absurd that his _thirteen-year-old_ brother is telling him not to be childish that Klaus can't help the laughter that bubbles up in his chest and spills from his lips. Five shoots him an annoyed look, but Klaus can't seem to stop laughing.

"If I’m tripping, this has got to be the most detailed hallucination I've ever had," he states absently between chuckles.

He misses Five's worried side look as Ben says, "I don't think you're hallucinating."

"Wouldn't a hallucination say the exact same thing, though?" he muses out loud. His eyes go wide. "Ooh, or maybe I died?" He turns to Five. "Am I dead?"

Sighing exasperatedly, Five reaches over and pinches his arm ruthlessly.

Klaus yelps.

"You're not dead." The 'idiot' goes unsaid, but Klaus hears it loud and clear. He pouts as he rubs his forearm.

"Well can you blame me for thinking this can't be real? You still haven't exactly offered me an explanation."

Of course, Five still isn’t feeling very forthcoming, and he stays silent, choosing to roll up his sleeve rather than say anything useful.

The only warning Klaus gets for what happens next is Ben's alarmed shout of his name before Five turns the knife on himself, digging a deep cut into his forearm.

"What the fuck?" Klaus almost falls off the bench in his hurry to disarm his brother.

The knife falls to the ground with a metallic _clang_ , but Five bats his hands away when Klaus tries to put pressure on his wound.

"Get off," he mutters, annoyed, his voice trailing into a hiss as he starts digging his fingers into the cut.

Klaus lets out a wounded noise, but before he can protest again, Five triumphantly pulls... something out of his arm. The metal glints dangerously in the light, glistening with blood, but Klaus's eyes are more drawn to the blinking green light.

“We need to get rid of this,” Five says, putting down the — is that a _tracker?_ — on the bench between them, and bending down to rip the edges of his shirt, tying off a crude bandage over his arm.

“Five, I say this with the utmost love and care, but what the fuck. _Again. Still.”_   Klaus shakes his head disbelievingly. “What’s going on?”

Five sighs. With his bloody task accomplished, he seems to have lost some of his earlier urgency.

“You were right,” he starts. “It is has been a long time — longer for me.” And before Klaus can even start to process that, Five squares his shoulders and states slowly, “The apocalypse is coming. I’m trying to stop it — and somehow,” he adds, looking at Klaus quizzically, “you’re linked to it.”

“...I am?”

“You are?”

Klaus throws a look of mock-offense at Ben. "Hey," he protests, "I’ll have you know I could totally cause the apocalypse."

“No, you could not.”

“I —” Klaus opens his mouth to retort, but Five cuts in, self-suffering.

"You're not the cause of the apocalypse." Five pinches his nose and sighs. “I would know. You just have something to do with it, and I need to figure out what.”

His eyes narrow, and he tilts his head. His stare is kind of intense, and Klaus shifts nervously. “What?”

“The agents mentioned something about pills — was there anything… special about them?”

Klaus blinks. “No?” Thinking about said pills has him sighing longingly though. “Just you know, your typical run of the mill type of pills.”

Five scowls. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Klaus replies, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, I know my pills.”

“Well, then maybe it has something to do with the guy you got them from — how well do you know him?”

“How well do I know him?” Klaus repeats, shooting Ben an incredulous look. Ben just rolls his eyes back, gesturing at him to focus on Five.

 _“Yes,”_ Five bites back impatiently. “That’s what I asked.”

Klaus snorts out a laugh. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but I don’t actually know that well. Or at all, really,” Klaus adds pensively after a beat.

Five’s scowl only gets deeper as he forces Klaus to narrate what he’s done for the past couple of weeks — drugs, mainly.

Ben interjects here and there to point out a detail Klaus’s missed (or doesn’t remember), but it’s pretty clear that none of what Klaus has been telling him is the thing Five is looking for.

Klaus finishes by mentioning his running in with Vanya. He keeps it brief, though, out of self-preservation. He remembers how close she and Five were and he doesn’t want his brother to murder him for running out on her — and he got enough judgment about it from Ben already.

Plus, he didn’t even get to use the drugs he’d gotten for Vanya’s pills, and that’s a fucking tragedy Klaus doesn’t want to think about.

Five growls, hitting his fist against the wooden bench. “This is useless! We’re getting nowhere.” He pauses for a long moment, fingers drumming on the wood. “What about the others? You said you saw Vanya, did you meet with anyone else too?”

Klaus shoots Ben an amused look before shaking his head. “Nope,” he says, popping out the ‘p’. “I’d have told you already if I had.”

“This isn’t good,” Five mutters.

Klaus nods along. “Say, how long’s it been for you then?” When Five shoots him a venomous look, Klaus raises his hands defensively. “Hey, you’re the one stuck on this — maybe talking about something else will help.”

“I doubt that,” Five retorts dismissively. But after a few more minutes of muttering to himself, he sighs. _“Fine._ It’s been forty-two years. For me.”

Klaus chokes on air. _“What?”_

Five sends him an annoyed glare. “You heard me.”

“That would make you…”

“Fifty-five,” Ben supplies.

“Fifty-five,” Klaus repeats, the number feeling odd and clunky on his tongue. He frowns. “How come you still look thirteen then?”

“A mere miscalculation,” Five replies primly. “I didn’t account on this,” he sneers as he gestures at himself, “being the version of me my consciousness would travel back to.”

“Hn-hn.” Klaus nods. “Whatever you say.”

Five scoffs and shakes his head. “Right,” he mutters to himself. “I should have known better than to try to explain this to _you.”_

“So…” Klaus drawls when Five stays silent. “What now?”

Five heaves a sigh and rolls his shoulders. “We should gather everyone,” he says. He doesn’t look happy about it, and he’s even less happy with Klaus’s answering laughter.

 _“What?”_ Five asks bitingly.

“Nothing. Just… We don’t exactly do the whole, get together thing.” Klaus’s shiver is only half-faked — while he never really minds seeing his siblings, he hasn’t seen their father in person in almost a decade, and that’s not a streak he’s interested in breaking.

“Besides,” he hastens to add as Five’s expression darkens, “it might be a little complicated to even get us in one place. Allison’s in LA and Luther’s _on the moon_ . They’re not exactly close by, though I guess we could probably get Allison’s number somehow…” His eyes flick to Ben, musing out loud. “Do you think _Luther_ has a number? Like, did he take a phone with him on the moon? How would that even work? Can anyone call? Does he get _prank calls?_ ”

Ben actually looks like he’s considering the thought, and shit, but now Klaus is too. It makes him laugh.

Meanwhile, Five stares at him with open disgust, snarling wordlessly, and Klaus sticks out his tongue at him.

“Can you be serious for one moment, _please?”_

“Fine, fine.” Klaus rolls his eyes. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Where was I…”

Ben helpfully mouths _Luther_ at him, and Klaus nods. "Right, Luther, our beloved leader is off on a self-sacrificing mission on the moon, and thus out of reach. Unless you want to talk to Dad, which I do not recommend."

Five looks like he's bitten into a lemon. "We'll keep that as a last resort."

Klaus grins. "Good man." Five's venomous look only makes him grin harder — and yeah, Klaus is playing it up, but he's approaching the dangerously close to sober point, and honestly, talking to his fifty-five/thirteen-year-old brother is the best distraction from well, everything Klaus doesn't want to face he can ask for.

"Anyway, Ben's dead — may he rest in peace," Klaus half-jokes, blowing his ghost of a brother a kiss. Ben doesn't look amused for once though, and it takes Klaus half a second to follow his pointed glare and realize why.

"Shit. Erm, yeah, Ben... died. Sorry?" he winces even as he says it, and Ben's incredulous, _"Sorry?"_   echoes in his ears.

"I know," Five replies, surprising them.

"You do?" Klaus blurts out. "That's good." It does raise some interesting questions about what Five's been up to, but, Klaus realizes quickly, no more than seeing him take down two men in less than what, ten minutes? had.

"I read Vanya's book," Five continues, ignoring Klaus's interjection.

Right, the book. Klaus swallows. It had come a couple of years ago, and Klaus still wasn't sure how he felt about it — on the one hand, good on Vanya for finally sticking it to the man, on the other... That book had been a little too truthful for his tastes.

Now, though, if it helped Five in some way... Klaus is kind of glad it exists.

Still... He can't imagine what it must have been like, finding out about Ben from that book of all things.

He clears his throat. “Right… Anyway, there’s also me, and while I think we can all agree I’m fabulous, I'm not exactly useful for whatever anti-apocalypse fight you’ve got going on… Your pals probably made a mistake.”

Five shakes his head. "The Commission doesn't make mistakes.”

"Really?" Klaus whines.

"Yes," Five replies, his tone brokering no argument. "Trust me, if they want you dead, they won't stop until you are."

"Right. That's... cheerful."

"Quite." Five's grin bares his teeth. "Which is why we should work on getting everyone in one place, and _stop the apocalypse._ So, what about the others?” he asks, impatient.

klaus frowns as he tries to remember. “Well, Vanya and Diego still live here. I mean, in the city. Vanya's probably still at her rehearsal thing? She said she had one today."

"This morning," Ben corrects.

"Yeah, right, it was this morning." Klaus snaps his fingers. "Maybe she's home now?"

Five's moving before Klaus has even finished his sentence, leaving Klaus to once again hurry after him.

"Hey, wait up!" he shouts, jogging to catch up. "Do you even know where you're going?"

 

* * *

 

Because the universe apparently hates him, Vanya isn't home when they get there.

Five looks at his brother, leaning against the wall while Five knocks again. He looks far too relaxed for someone who has time assassins after him. It makes Five wants to seethe, but he guesses asking Klaus to take anything very seriously has always been something of a lost cause.

Still, he thinks to himself while taking note of his brother, at least Klaus is still here. Until Five can figure out what the Commission found so dangerous in his recent actions that Klaus became worth eliminating, Five doesn’t intend on letting his brother run wild.

Still, this would all be so much easier if he didn't look _thirteen_ again. Five had _liked_ being an adult, and he'd been in no hurry to change that.

He doesn’t miss the aches, though, and he has mixed feelings about his scars.

He absolutely misses being tall, though. Having to look _up_ at Klaus is already getting on his nerves.

Five wrenches his eyes away from his brother — it is weird seeing him after so long, and alive at that. He looks at once exactly like the corpse Five had found all these years ago, and nothing like it at all, and the dissonance makes his stomach churn until Five pushes it out of his mind.

The apocalypse. That should be his only focus.

Five has checked, and it’s still three good years away — on the one hand, it’s good news: he has more time to stop it. On the other, however, whatever the Commission thinks Klaus has done or will do is probably so small and insignificant trying to identify it would be like finding a needle in a hay’s stack.

Or worse, a piece of hay in a haystack.

Five grits his teeth and knocks again.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s here,” Klaus states, pushing himself off the wall nonchalantly. "Do you think we should leave a message?"

Five rolls his eyes. "Geez, why didn’t I think of that? And say what, exactly — hi, Vanya, I’m back from the future and the apocalypse is coming? Would you say that in a note?”

Klaus shrugs, eyes darting to the staircase. “I mean…”

Five cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, we'll come back later."

“Suit yourself. So, where to next, old man?” He giggles at his own joke, and Five sighs as he pushes past him.

“You said Diego lived in the city too?”

Klaus nods quickly.

“Well then let’s hope he’s home then.”

 

* * *

 

A gym isn’t exactly the place Five expects Klaus to lead them to, but on second thought, considering this is _Diego,_ it kind of fits.

That doesn’t make it _nice_ or even remotely good, but well, Five has lived in worse places. Though at least he did have the excuse of the apocalypse ruining every living place.

 _“You!”_ A solidly-built man comes up to them quickly, his face reddening as he rounds up on Klaus. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you back here again.”

“Friend of yours, I assumed?” Five asks Klaus in a drawl.

“Diego’s landlord,” Klaus corrects, pasting on a large grin and throwing an arm around Five’s shoulders.

Five viciously digs his elbow in his brother’s side in retaliation, but apart from a sharp hiss, Klaus doesn’t react.

“Hi, Al. I missed you too.” He thrusts Five forward. “Don’t worry, we’re not saying — we’re just here for a quick visit. Our little —” he hisses as Five grinds his heel onto his foot “— brother came for a visit.”

The way Al’s grumpiness eases as soon as he lays eyes on Five is both comical and infuriating, and Five smiles the widest grin he can.

“Yes,” he states dryly, “I couldn’t wait to see Diego again. It’s been so long.” He casts his head down into his best imitation of a mournful pout.

Around his shoulders, Klaus's arm shakes. It takes Five a moment to realize it's from restrained laughter, and Five sends a prayer to whoever might be listening that his brother doesn't blow this for them.

Luckily, some boxer calls Al’s name, and with one last dubious look and a delightfully threatening "I'm watching you", Al leaves them be.

"And Diego lives _here?"_ Five asks, his eyes following Al with disgust.

"I don’t know, it's not that bad,” Klaus protests, batting his eyelashes at waving a ‘hello’ at the sweaty boxers on the ring. “It has its advantages, I think.” He winks, and Five shivers in disgust — of all the things he doesn’t want to know about, his siblings’ sex lives ranks among the highest.

Klaus tilts his head to the side and pouts. “Fine, fine,” he mutters, before adding in a louder voice, “Point is, I've stayed in worse places."

“I'm sure," Five replies in a drawl.

Klaus rests his palms over his heart. "That hurts bro, right there."

Five snorts.

They duck away from the somewhat crowded gym area, and Klaus skips over to a heavy looking door, rapping on it loudly.

“What?” Klaus asks defensively when Five shoots him an incredulous look. “It’s Diego, it’s fine.”

Five, who remembers Diego throwing knives at whoever disturbed him when he wanted a room for himself, just keeps staring.

Inside the room, though, Five can hear movement — and swearing.

“Ah, yes, our dear Diego was never a morning person,” Klaus states, nodding sagely.

“... It’s _past noon,”_ Five sputters.

“Ah, but the morning only ends when you want it to end.”

“That makes no sense,” Five replies, shaking his head.

Mercifully, whatever inane thing Klaus had been about to add gets cut off by the door being yanked open.

 

* * *

 

When Diego's door opens, Klaus shamelessly uses Five as a shield.

The last time he and Diego met, they hadn't exactly parted on good terms — though, granted, they rarely did, what with Diego somehow still hoping Klaus could be 'fixed' and then getting angry whenever Klaus inevitably proved him wrong.

Of course, Diego never stays mad at him for very long, but Klaus figures using Five to kick-start the whole forgiveness process isn't the worst thing he could do.

Really, Klaus thinks as he has to dodge Five's vicious kick toward his shins, his old/little brother should thank him for cutting through that whole thing so neatly.

So Klaus smiles brightly as he waves his brother hello when Diego opens the door.

"Klaus?” Diego asks briskly, coming to a stop against the door. He's already starting to frown, and Klaus pouts. "What are you —” Diego chokes as his eyes finally fall on Five.

"Five?" Diego asks, incredulous. He lets go of the door and stumbles forward. “H-how? W-what?” He shakes his head rapidly and stumbles back.

Klaus sighs inwardly and shoves Five forward, narrowly avoiding another kick as Five spins around to glare at him, letting out a wordless snarl of rage before shaking off Klaus's hands.

"Hi, Diego," Five says, saccharine sweet, turning back around.

Diego can only nod mutely as Five ducks under his arm and crosses into his boiler room/apartment.

"What the —?" Diego asks, his eyes wide as he rounds up on Klaus.

Klaus shrugs. "Surprise? He just popped up today, apparently, he’s been time traveling? He saved my life from those crazy time assassins — ooh, does this mean I'm famous in the future?” He throws the last sentence toward Five, and pouts when he doesn’t get an answer.

Klaus shakes his head, patting Diego on the shoulder as he shuffles in after Five. “I could be famous. Famous people get assassins sent after them... I should ask Allison — _Ah,_ I bet _she_ never got assassins sent after her!”

 _“You’re not famous!”_   Five finally shouts back.

“The world didn’t appreciate my genius,” Klaus tuts. "Do you have food, by the way?” he asks, turning back to Diego.

That seems to snap him out of his stupor, because Diego lets the door fall shut and starts glaring again.

“No.” He hisses, catching up to Klaus in three long strides.

Klaus pouts. “No, you don’t have food, or no, you don’t want to give it to us?”

“Take a guess,” Diego bites back, baring Klaus the access to his kitchen corner.

“Fine, fine.” Klaus raises his hands defensively. "But what if I said this wasn’t for me, but for the kid?” he asks with a pout, pointing at Five, who raises his head from where he’d been exploring the room to snarl, “I’m _not_ a kid.”

Klaus ignores him to say, “Who even knows when he last ate?", turning puppy dog eyes on Diego, who growls and stalks to the kitchen.

 _“Fine!”_ he bites back. “But then you’re explaining whatever this —” he jabs his index fingers toward Five “— is about.” His eyes linger on Five though, and he shakes his head like he still can't believe Five's here.

Klaus can relate.

"Say," Klaus starts, leaning over Diego's shoulder as his brother starts pulling out ingredients, "since you're already making something for Five, maybe you could make something for me — _us,"_ he corrects at Diego's side look, "too?"

Diego doesn't reply, but he does take out more food, and Klaus grins triumphantly, patting Diego's shoulder gratefully. "Thanks, bro."

“You’re lucky I hadn’t eaten yet,” Diego mumbles grumpily.

When Klaus turns around, he jumps in fright as he finds himself faced with Five's unimpressed face.

"Jeez, Five," he says, willing his heart to stop racing and his hands to stop shaking, "I thought you were supposed to make sure I, like, didn't die."

Five just arches an eyebrow in dismissal, a clear 'if this is what it takes to kill you, you're not worth my time'.

"So _mean,"_ he whines at Ben, who snorts back in amusement.

"I didn't say I was hungry," Five states.

"No, but come on, you need to eat. And drink," Klaus adds after a pause, tilting his head to the side. "Help with the blood loss."

 _“Blood loss?"_ Diego chokes, eyes snapping to Five.

"I'm fine," Five retorts, taking a step back. "Klaus's exaggerating, there is no _blood loss,"_ he finishes, glaring.

"He should at least bandage his arm properly," Ben says, judging, and Klaus relays the message cheerfully.

Seeing Diego turn his mother-hening instincts on somebody else for once is actually pretty great.

He leaves the two of them to go dig through Diego's bathroom for the first aid kit — he's crashed here often enough to both know that a) Diego keeps one, illegal vigilantism oblige, and b) he always keeps it in the bathroom, because Diego has no imagination.

"What are you doing?" Ben asks, leaning over his shoulder.

"Relax," Klaus replies, even though Ben's voice had been carefully even, "I'm just taking stuff out for Five. Not like Diego even keeps any of the good stuff in here anyway," he adds with a sigh.

"Yes, I wonder why that is," Ben drawls.

Klaus yanks out a roll of bandages, cotton, and disinfectant, sticking out his tongue to Ben. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he lies, snapping the box shut and shoving it back under the sink.

Something occurs to him and his eyes go wide. He crouches down and shoves his arm as far as it will go under the sink, grinning when he feels his fingertips catching purchase on familiar carton.

“What are you doing?” Ben hisses in disappointment, but Klaus's too exhilarated to glare.

"Just something I left behind the last time I was here," he says, twirling the cigarette pack between his fingers. It's a little smashed, and half-empty, but if Klaus remembers right, tucked between the cigarettes left is...

He holds up the joint triumphantly.

"Really?" Ben asks, unimpressed. "You hid that in Diego's bathroom?"

Klaus shrugs. "Well, he didn't find it, did he? He should probably be more thorough with his cleaning though, but hey, lucky me!"

"Yeah, 'lucky' is one word for it," Ben grumbles.

“Oh come on, I’m not going to smoke it _now,”_ he whines. He wants to — he really, really wants to — but he can wait a little longer. Like, until after they’ve eaten whatever food Diego’s going to prepare — probably eggs, because _Diego_ — and Five brought him up to date on the whole ‘the apocalypse is coming’ thing.

He jumps as Diego starts pounding on the door, and curses as he stuffs the joint back in the pack and the pack in his pockets.

“What were you doing in there?” Diego asks, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Klaus replies, batting his eyelashes innocently. When Diego doesn’t appear convinced — a travesty, really — Klaus sighs and thrusts the bandages he’s gathered at his brother, pushing past him to go back to the living area.

“Yeah, well, good,” Diego grumbles. “Now go help Five before he bleeds all over my floor.”

Klaus is pretty sure that’s an exaggeration, but his heart skips a panicked beat anyway.

Five is, of course, as fine as he’d been five minutes ago when Klaus had left. Well, perhaps he looks a tad more impatient, but he’s looked like that since he came back, really — and now that Klaus thinks of it, he’s pretty sure Five had been like this too when they were kids.

He tosses the bandages and disinfectant at Five. He’d offer to help, really, but even _Ben’s_ not delusional enough to think that’d be a good idea, so instead, Klaus settles in to watch Five silently patch himself up while Diego does whatever it is he’s doing in the kitchen that makes the place smell so good.

It’s making Klaus realize just how painfully hungry he is — and how close he is getting to withdrawal.

It’s an itch under his skin, really — one it’d be so very easy to ease right now too. But that would require leaving, and…

His eyes flick to Five, tying off his bandage and rolling his sleeve back down, and then to Diego, piling up omelettes on white dishes, and finally to Ben, who is trying not to send him hopeful looks (not that Ben can hide anything from Klaus, really, not after he’s spent so many years hanging around Klaus).

He doesn’t want to leave, he realizes, and that’s hard to swallow. It’s kind of peaceful, and the food smells delicious, and _Five_ is back.

And yeah, sure, the apocalypse is apparently coming soon and there are people after Klaus’s life, but somehow, some way, this day hasn’t ended up being the worst day of his life.

It’s actually been pretty good so far, all things considered.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think :)
> 
> You can also find me on [ tumblr ](https://the-crownless-queen.tumblr.com/) :)


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